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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703241">Morendo, Dolce, Fucco</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurorlionheart/pseuds/aurorlionheart'>aurorlionheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad English, Drama, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, SORRY FOR MY ENGLISH, alternative universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:00:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurorlionheart/pseuds/aurorlionheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Everything is fine. Everything is good, Boromir’, he said. Frodo looked at him with sorrow in his azure eyes. </p><p>‘Who the hell... is Boromir?’</p><p>‘It is you. You are Boromir. Don’t you... don’t  you remember?’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frodo Baggins/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Morendo, Dolce, Fucco</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sorry for my bad English. it’s not my native language. please correct me if my sentences are wrong</p><p>morendo - the musical term indicates a decrease in volume or tempo, but often affects both; to make the sound slowly die away<br/>dolce - the musical term indicates a tender, adoring manner; to play sweetly with a light touch.<br/>fucco - a directive to perform a certain passage with energy, fire, and passion</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>for the damaged coda - blonde redhead</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had the most beautiful dream of silky hands sliding down his back and lush lips kissing his brow. But when the sun rose above golden fields and silver stone walls of Minas Tirith, he opened his muddy eyes. Eyes that were green as much as the dark forest in the twilight fog.</p><p>A thin thread of memories of brown curls escaped him in the last second of slumber, as he squinted in the morning sunlight.</p><p>And when he raised up on his elbow he discovered himself in an enormous white chamber. Through the wide-open balcony, making the veil curtains rise, a light breeze was blowing and bringing with itself a dizzy odor of lilac, or something more delicate and rich, something akin to thorn roses. He didn't remember how he could have known these flowers murmurs. He even could not say if he knew how these flowers look like. However,  a sullen feeling stirred amidst his ribs and his lungs were unpleasantly tightened.</p><p>Headache was tearing his skull apart internally. He couldn't remember anything neither from yesterday nor last week or last month.<br/>
It was as though everything in his mind had simply disappeared somewhere. </p><p>The wave of hurt and suddenly grief skimmed by his temple.</p><p>Then he heard another's voice. He thought the wind brought it to him. It was clear and sonorous, and so gentle, just like the melody of a lullaby warming you during the wintriness... He felt so tired, so close to falling back to deep slumber. He would have done so if the darkness in his sleep hadn't been frozen, dead, and ghostly. </p><p>He also didn't know how long he had slept before the dim note of the day began to bother him. Anyway, he thought he must be serene and restful in both mind and body after so... so charming, but an extinct dream. But his every muscle - from shins to neck - ached. </p><p>His image was reflected and captured by the mirror in front of the soft bed under him.  That mirror was framed by fancy patterns of silver branches and brassy leaves - for some reason, it didn't seem to fit the place: it was too beautiful. And his haggard and gaunt face was too ugly and likewise didn't fit that mirror with its mesmerizing shine.</p><p>He touched his cheek by calloused (why it was so?) fingers, ran his hand through the hair in some frustration looking at himself for a while, not recognizing the strange, harsh person opposite... and then he just lifted out of creamy cotton sheets, albeit reluctantly, and went out of the vast and huge balcony.<br/>
So familiar... and so alien at the same time.

The subtle sun fondled his naked shoulders. The damp air made his nose itched just like after a long, long rain. It was so brightly out there so he immediately shut his eyes for a while moment, and didn't dare look at the blinding sky. He didn't care and didn't note he was wearing only rough cloth leggings.  His bare feet cuddled to a solid floor that was cold notwithstanding common warm in over around. </p><p>'How long...'</p><p>He turned around. The man in the arched door looked almost similarly like him, but not at all. The man's shoulders were broader, his hair was blonder and curlier, his face had healthier color and his eyes were hopeful... in what reasons, he didn't know. In truth, he knew almost nothing, but that man seemed to know everything. At least, he smiled so. 

</p><p>'How long have you been awake, brother?'</p><p>That had been when his mind finally accepted that something seriously wrong.</p>
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